


Focus/Happiness

by happyisahabit



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Blue Paladin Allura (Voltron), Established Relationship, F/M, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Flashbacks, Implied/Referenced Torture, Matt Holt/Shiro if you squint, Mild Language, Post-Season 3 Canon Divergent, Red Paladin Lance (Voltron), Self-Hatred, Self-Sacrifice, Temporary Amnesia, pidgance, plance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2018-12-24 10:00:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12010386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happyisahabit/pseuds/happyisahabit
Summary: Katie had long given up on her own happiness. Or rather, it’d be better to say that she had higher priorities. Like saving her father and brother, like piecing her family back together for her mother. Like providing tactical support for her team and being the pilot of the Green Lion.More important things, like staying the fuck alive.Any piece of happiness that throttles towards her is swept away from herself, washing it down the drain of her mind. Katie runs her hands under the stream of bubbly feelings until Pidge turns off the faucet. Happiness is for Katie and Focus is for Pidge. Compartmentalizing helps.





	1. not her

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to jump around in time a little bit and from person to person. Hopefully, it won't be too distracting. There are flashback segments that go *backwards* in time.  
> Ages: Pidge ~18-19, Lance ~20-21. They've been in space for a while, my friends.  
> Thanks to l0chn3ss for being my beta reader. Please enjoy my first Voltron fic!

Katie had long given up on her own happiness. Or rather, it'd be better to say that she had higher priorities. Like saving her father and brother, like piecing her family back together for her mother. Like providing tactical support for her team and being the pilot of the Green Lion.

More important things, like staying the fuck alive.

Any piece of happiness that throttles towards her is swept away from herself, washing it down the drain of her mind. Katie runs her hands under the stream of bubbly feelings until Pidge turns off the faucet. Happiness is for Katie and Focus is for Pidge. Compartmentalizing helps.

So Katie takes a backseat when Pidge finds Matt. Katie, who had been thinking about a good morning kiss, light and honest, hides around a corner while Pidge assesses the young man on the ground. Matt's face blooms with purples and blues. A dark jagged line rides the crest of his cheekbone and it's her finger catching in the edges of scar tissue that causes his eyes to open. The warm browns she knew are dull and bleary. Her tracker flashes twice from her gauntlet: enemies.

She can hear the gunfire through her comm from the team as they reorganize at the rendezvous. She doesn't have a lot of time.

"Who.. r'you?"

The voice is low and scratchy and it breaks Katie's heart as Pidge tugs off her helmet and picks around the interior.

"A friend."�

She tugs at her armor as his eyes fall shut again, his tense face relaxing.

* * *

Something wasn't right.

Lance liked to say his instincts were good. The team generally scoffs and writes him off, but when it really counts, he knows they would listen. And right now, it really counts.

He fires shot after shot to cover his friends as they scramble back to the Blue Lion, Allura firing up the engines and getting a reading on other sentries and ships headed their way. If they hadn't been a head short, they would already be on their way back out.

"C'mon..." he grumbles as he cleanly fires another shot through the next sentry's head. His anxiety rides on the edge of his focus, banging on the base of his skull, demanding to be let in. He hears Keith's voice crackle over their comm system.

"Pidge, what's your ETA?!"

And that wasn't right, because Pidge should have been the first one back. Pidge had no reason to be on radio silence. Lance can hear the debate between Keith and Allura about when they would have to stop waiting, when they'd have to leave Pidge's extraction for another opportunity. His molars grind together as the compacted light flies from his gun.

"Where are you, Katie...?" he murmurs, and as though bidden by his thought, the Green Paladin runs forward from the blast doors, vaulting over broken drones and dodging bolts of purple from the sentries behind.

Lance can't contain his grin, but lets the rest of the team do the talking as he refocuses on gunning down the opposition. He tamps down the itchy feeling at the base of his skull as he tumbles into the Lion. Allura jerks the controls and they are flying away, away. The Galra ship is growing smaller on the screens and while they exchange congratulations for getting out in one piece, Lance turns to Pidge.

Only, Pidge is sitting in the corner, elbows on knees and one foot anxiously tapping the ground. Something is wrong.

"Guys, I think..." he isn't sure, but alarms are blaring in his head. His keen eyes trace over his favorite tiny Paladin and the memorized puzzle that is Pidge starts shifting pieces in his head. The curve of her shoulders isn't that stiff. The way the armor fits is off by a tiny bit. Pidge sits on her hands when she's nervous.

He feels like he's been hit by a freight train.

They've just arrived at the castle and they're unloading, but Lance is drawing his bayard and Shiro is coming into the hangar faster and faster. His name is screamed in at least three different voices. There are arms around him and the single bolt fired scorches the ceiling.

"What the quiznak are you doing?!" "LANCE!" "Why are you shooting at Pidge?!"

The green armored person is almost to Shiro, but stops when Lance yells. "THAT ISN'T PIDGE!"

The figure is still, looking back at him through the visor of Pidge's helmet. They are the wrong height, the wrong build, similar but just different enough. The mannerisms and gait were totally wrong and Lance curses himself for not seeing it as soon as they crossed into that hangar. The gulp of joy at seeing gleaming green and white turn the corner had satiated him and he gave up finding water.

"That isn't her," he chokes out, falling limp in Hunk's grip. Keith pulls the loose bayard from his fingers. "That's not Katie," he whispers.

The alertness of the group intensifies as they turn their gazes on the figure. Not-Pidge's hands reach for the helmet and tug. Familiar auburn hair falls free in wild waves, but it's right and so wrong. There's a scar on a cheek beneath eyes darker than he wants and far less freckles.

They left Pidge on the Galra ship. They left Katie, who exchanged her armor for her brother's prison rags.

Shiro surges forward and engulfs the figure in a tight grip while Lance sinks to his knees with Hunk's trembling fingers digging into the gaps in his armor. Allura gasps behind them and Keith shoves his helmet back on, stalking towards the gangway that will lead him to his own Lion.

Lance's eyes are itchy and he doesn't think he can feel anything. He knows Pidge, knows Katie better than anyone on this castle-ship, except maybe the person who has not broken their eye contact since it began.

Matt's chapped and split lips form the syllables of "I'm sorry" before he gives in and clutches onto his former crewmate.

No one is sorrier than Lance.

* * *

Pidge helps Matt stand and keeps him propped in front of her with one arm as she tugs a small capsule out of her utility belt's side pocket. She adjusts with some difficulty to hold it near his face. Her chin barely reaches over his shoulder.

"Matt, can you stand? I need you to listen to me," she mutters, eyes focused on the blue hologram of blinking lights and schematics. There were too many for her to take on and no way that the team would be able to pull out without severe complications. One of the two of them was bound to be a liability and she was definitely more equipped to make the most out of an extended stay. She activates the shield on his opposite arm and prays that the armor will save him from anything more than a glancing blow.

They'd only have one shot. Her plan borders on insanity, but dammit if it isn't the only thing she can think of that will get one of them on that Lion. And that one was never going to be her once she found him.

"Do you see the blueprint on your arm? Matt, when I say 'go,' I want you to run towards the blue dot. There will be sentries shooting at you, but you can dodge them if you're fast-"

"-Can't... too tired-"

"Matt, you have to. You can. You WILL. When you enter that door at the end, there will be a man with a red gun and large blue mechanical cat. Get in. Go with them. They will take care of you."

* * *

Lance grips Hunk's hands and stands, pulling his best friend up with him. The itchy piercing alarm in his head dulls as he pulls his focus in. Lance puts a hand on Allura's shoulder and stares at Hunk. "We're going back and we aren't leaving without Pidge."

Keith's voice plays in their ears, "Then get in your Lion already."

Shiro guides Matt back towards the bridge, stopping only to hand the green helmet to Lance. Keith calls out orders over the castle's audio system. "Coran, turn us around. Allura, head to the bridge and help Coran; we may need a wormhole outta there. Shiro, take Matt and... take Matt to the med bay and see if he needs a cryo-pod. Hunk, you're tactical support for Lance and me; see what you can pick up on the scanners."

Hunk grips Lance's forearm and Allura nods at him before they run towards the bridge.

"Lance, get to Red and prepare to launch."

"10-4, boss."

Red is humming under his hands when he reaches her moments later. Pidge's helmet is tucked into a compartment in the cockpit and he traces the small nicks and dings in it with his eyes. Keith goes over a hastily made plan in his ear.

"We're coming for you, Katie."

* * *

"What about... what about you?" Matt whispers, still a little disoriented.

Katie swallows hard. Pidge keeps the waver from her voice.

"I'll be right behind you. Don't look back."

She snaps the capsule between her fingers and the spores inside induce an adrenaline rush in the man she holds up. She taps the helmet on his head and the visor encapsulates his entire face.

"GO!"

One push is all it takes for her directions and the fight or flight response to kick in. Matt is gone, Katie goes with him, and Pidge waits.

* * *

"Lance! Hey, Lance, cut it out; we're gonna be late to the briefing!"

Heedless, he drags her back by the wrist and grins widely at her. She's tucked into him, his hands tugging the edges of his jacket around them as if he could absorb her being into his and keep her there. Her exasperated sigh hits his collarbone as he sways them side to side lightly. He probably doesn't realize he can't stay still, but that's one of the things she likes most about Lance.

When he was happy, it was like nothing could stop him.

Pidge screams internally that now is not the time, that there is no time for this, for them. Lance's stupidly happy face looks down at her and softens just a touch. So Katie cups his cheeks and Lance's arms tighten around her.

The gentle brush of lips is quiet and an eternity within a single moment. The paradox doesn't register so much as the bubble of happiness that wells in Katie. She clings to it and drowns out the voice in the back of her head. Lance's forehead presses to hers as he hums.

"Good morning, Katie." The warmth his voice exudes is easy- soft and cozy, like a well-worn blanket. Her mind hushes and her heart fills.

"'Morning, you sap."

* * *

 

"What do you remember?" Shiro asks as Matt sits on a stretcher near the cryo-pods. He eyes them warily, but he trusts Shiro and he's just so, so tired.

"I was on that ship... for a while. I don't know how long." Shiro runs a scanner over him, stopping to press the indicator at the tip to his palm. "Before that... not much other than fighting and before that..."

Shiro looks at the results as they pass over the screen. He glances up at Matt through his fringe.

"What about Kerberos?"

Matt's expression doesn't change except for the small crease in between his brows. "I don't... I can barely remember anything about K-Kerberos. Was that... a moon? Or a planet?"

"Well, let's get you healed up and maybe something will come back to you," he placates as he leads the younger man to one of the cryo-pods. Matt pauses before he steps in.

"What happened to your friend? Are they okay?"

And Shiro clenches his teeth, watching Matt glance at the green and white armor piled neatly on the stretcher. "We'll get her back. I promise."

But Matt doesn't understand why Shiro would promise him a stranger would be okay, so he just nods and steps in. The pod closes and Shiro reopens his comm.

"Coran, Hunk, he's low on blood sugar and insulin and his stress hormones are off the charts. Got any ideas?"

"I believe Number Five gave him a stimulant, Shiro," Coran replies.

Hunk gasps, "Adrenaline! Guys, are you hearing this?" Keith confirms and Allura informs them that they will be at the Galra ship's last location shortly. Lance's silence doesn't go unnoticed.

* * *

The heavy restraints seem a bit much for as petite as Pidge is and she has to roll her eyes at the directed light. Did even the Galra prescribe to the notion that shining a light in someone's eye will break their will faster, make them talk? She had been in this war for too long to really think about it.

Her focus is drawn to a sinister purple glow and her ears perk at the dark voice that echoes from the shadows: "I am going to ask you some questions. I will _know_ if you lie."

Katie, who knows nothing of Voltron, wraps up Pidge, who knows everything about Voltron. She grits her teeth with a click.

* * *

The Galra ship will be in range in moments. Or should be, if it didn't do a runner.

Lance's gloved hands tighten around Red's controls. His eyes bore into the hangar bay doors. His every nerve ending is set to light, if only someone would give him the signal.

_Zzzzktchtchkt!_

Lance jumps when a fizzing crackle snaps behind him. He barely misses launching Red straight through the bay doors by ripping his hands off the controls. The buzzing noise hisses lowly, emanating from Pidge's helmet. He scrambles away from his seat and the control panel and picks it up. Between the white noise, he can hear words.

"Hunk, buddy, can you patch into Pidge's helmet? It's making some freaky noises!"

Hunk acknowledges and after a few moments with his heart in his throat, the audio coming from Pidge's comm translates over Lance's ears.

"-about the Paladins?" Not Pidge.

There is coughing that makes his heart squeeze and the sound of spitting.

"I don't know what the _quiznak_ you're talking about." Pidge! That was her, she's-

A strange humming noise precedes a choked yell.

"Oh, I think you do. Now, you will tell me all that you know and stop playing these games." Pidge's breathing is labored and in surround sound. "I will pick each and every memory of yours apart."

"Lance, we're about to hit the drop zone! Are you ready to go?" Keith yells above the feed. Pidge wheezes and her breath catches.

"I know how to break you, Katie Holt."

The Green Paladin's helmet glances off the floor and the bay doors open just as the Red Lion bursts out into space.


	2. got her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You sent them to rescue my sister on half a plan?!” Matt screams as loud as his body will let him. Shiro tries to calm him down, but Matt rips his arm away with more force than he thought he had. The hysterical laugh Matt lets out is short and punctuated.

Pidge coughs and spits, the wave of nausea passing as the bile burns her throat and sours her mouth. She sweats and raises her head to stare through damp brown bangs. The evil witch before her is stoic. The tell-tale sound of drone fire is only muted by the ship’s hull so much, but between the visions of her father and brother, wrong words twisting out of their mouths, she isn’t sure she can trust what she hears.

A druid warps into the room, face covered by a large mask. “The Lions have arrived.”

“Which?”

“Black and Red.”

Katie’s heart catches in her throat; was it real then? Haggar turns to regard a screen of the two Lions ripping through the launched field of drones. Pidge takes a moment to flick her tongue over the piece of her comm she’s glued in the gap between her teeth made by her post-braces’ nightly retainer. She doesn’t know if the stomach acid would damage it.

What she can see of the screen shows the head and right arm of Voltron dancing through space in a deadly rhythm. She spares a moment to think for their safety, to think about Lance, to wonder if they were able to hear her. And it is in that lull that Haggar’s attentions return.

The next wave of pain burns in her stomach harshly, causing her to fold in as far as her restraints would allow, as though crunching into a ball could protect herself. She was unprepared and the dark zing of magic that traces up her spine and into her head sees too many doors that Katie had hidden. She chokes on another yell as the shadowy fingers scrape through her mind and wishes that the next syllable never leaves her mouth:  _ Lance _ !

There is a snap and a pain in her gums and the floodgates of her mind are pried open with no delicacy.

* * *

Somewhere along the line, sometime in the past three years or however long it was they had been floating and flying through space, Lance had pried Katie out of the bomb shelter Pidge had stuck her in. She thinks it might have started when she admitted her actual first name, or maybe it was another mission rescuing prisoners only to find her family out of reach. But either way, Lance had been there, a sympathetic ear and so, so warm. 

Hugging Hunk was like being folded into your favorite reading chair, comfortable and reliable, and always there and always exactly the way you expect it to be. Hugging Shiro was like hugging an uncle, someone you felt great affection for, but were too removed from to let it last long. Hugging Allura didn’t happen and Coran’s shoulder pats were reassuring, if short. She guessed that physical affection was not as common in Altean culture as her own. Keith, she had never hugged, so long as you didn’t count grappling on the training deck or being caught when thrown through the air.

Lance, though; his hugs were ever-changing. She only realized it when they started coming in higher frequency. Friendly cuddles on the couch as they all relaxed after a training session, teasingly trapping her in an embrace when she started ranting about someone touching her tech. An arm-squeeze around her shoulders after a mission gone right, being held tight to his chest after a mission gone wrong. They couldn’t save everyone, he’d murmur, but they would try. His hand threading into her hair, pads of his fingers rubbing gently into her scalp, soothing and present. 

More and more, he sank into her life until she could only faintly recall when they hadn’t been like this. The tactile connection that Lance handed to Pidge drew out Katie.

Katie, who thought of the color blue, who tried to trace new constellations in the foreign skies with Lance lying on his back next to her. Katie, who laughed at puns and replacements for swear words, who received her first kiss from a frantic Red Paladin, still armored in blue, after a crash landing knocked out Green’s communications.  _ Katie _ , who had known happiness as a girl sitting at the dinner table with her mother, her father, and her brother, talking about frozen genetically modified peas, who now knows happiness as ducking around corners for kisses with a tall ocean-eyed boy.

With Lance, she could be Katie.

But Pidge knew, and told Katie repeatedly, that love and longing needed to be shelved, and left behind. It wasn’t something she could carry with her, not while the stakes were so high, while she needed to  _ focus _ . The brief interludes of peace were an illusion when your life was constantly under threat of attack, when you actively sought out potentially fatal situations.

Katie had tried to flee, put distance between them, listen to Pidge. She ran from him and his affection, for her family, her hope and focus. Yet, Lance had always had longer legs, so it was not very long before he caught Katie and wrapped up Pidge in his embrace, too.

* * *

“Call the fleet back. We are leaving.”

“We aren’t going to retrieve the Lions?”

“They will come to us again. After all, we have something very important in our possession.”

* * *

“ _ Lance-- _ !”

Then nothing. Not even a little bit of static.

Lance grits his teeth and pushes his Lion harder. Red’s speed is ridiculous and Lance can feel the edges of his senses blur with the forces his body endures, even within the confines of his well-pressurized armor and the magical/technological wonder that is the Lion. Keith is behind him, lighting up anything he misses. There is no being subtle now. Hunk had been trying to narrow in on Pidge’s location using the signal they’d had from her and Keith would somehow use the Black Lion’s ability to phase through the ship and grab her.

Lance has a bad feeling that it won’t work now that her helmet has fallen silent. 

The field of drones slink back to the mothership, abandoning the wreckage that the Lions leave in their wake. Lance curses- a real swear word that would have had Pidge teasing him about keeping a clean mouth for his nieces and nephews- and pushes harder. A screen pops up on Red’s screen with a schematic and a pulsing green dot. Thank the stars for Hunk.

“You need to go now; I don’t know if I can track her again now that the comm broke. It was definitely on her end!” Hunk speaks rapidly over their open channel. The panic in the Yellow Paladin’s voice is evident, only tempered by certainty in his last calculation and trust in his team.

Lance yells for Keith and, may that part-Galra friend of his be blessed, he responds with nothing but a yell and a sudden surge forward. The pull in his head that he usually associates with ‘that Voltron feeling’ is especially strong when the Black Lion phases in front of him. The white wings spread for a split second before Keith is gone.

Lance prays that it works, but won’t know until Keith radios back in. In the meantime, Red roars and together they manifest the rail gun from Keith’s fight against Zarkon. The mothership is trying to escape quickly- probably realizing exactly who they had, Allura calls out- but no one will match Lance for speed right now. The pulses off the rail gun are smaller than the station-destroyers Keith had used, but Lance has better aim. 

The engines explode and the base of the ion cannon is ripped away by the force of his shots. Disable, don’t destroy. Red zips him to each vantage point too quickly for any sort of return fire, especially with the drone fleet revoked. The ship can no longer run. Lance positions himself to hit the bridge and waits.

The ticks pass like decafeebs as he waits for Keith’s reemergence. 

* * *

The world is cold and fuzzy. Matt floats in the sea of his consciousness as his brain tries to reason out everything that’s happened over the past few hours. He should start with what he knows.

He’s with Shiro. Shiro is a friend, Shiro is safe.

There are other humans out this far in space. They could take him home.

Something with Kerberos. Was it the start of this?

The next, Matt speculates: Shiro and his crew were looking for him, specifically. Why? He could understand Shiro, but Shiro hadn’t been the one to find him.

The phantom voice replays through his head.  _ I’ll be right behind you. _ It makes his chest ache. What is this feeling?  _ A friend. _ No, no, that wasn’t it. This tug was more familiar than that.  _ Matt- _ he wanted to pull his hair out.  _ Matt?-  _ his ears were ringing.

_ Matt! _ Katie!

His eyes snap open in the crystalline vapor inside the cryo-pod, aware and panicked. The door slides away and he tumbles out, coughing, only barely caught by Shiro who fires questions at him a mile a minute. Matt pushes off him and stumbles over to the green and white armor on the abandoned stretcher. His fingers tremble over the small markings on it that show signs of use, reminders of battle.

“Shiro… where’s my sister?”

* * *

Sometimes he hates being a long range fighter. He watches through the scope as his friends throw themselves into the fray and while he can pick off those sneaking up behind them or blow a hole through a control panel without needing to get near it, it doesn’t stop his heart from lurching into his throat when he has no way to stop one of them from getting hurt.

Pidge is at the control panel, Hunk laying down spread fire at any advancing sentries. Keith, Shiro and Allura are running from spot to spot, clearing areas and taking down who they can. 

“Got it!” Pidge jumps up, and the team stutters in their steps, expecting the drones to clatter uselessly to the floor. It doesn’t happen. In their moment of shock, the drones keep fighting and Lance snipes machine skull after skull. 

“They must have them on a different command line!” Hunk screams, trying to burst a hole in the robotic army for them to retreat through. Pidge follows him closely, bayard glowing green. She protects his back, but a fast sentry gets through her guard and strikes Hunk on the side of the face. Lance can’t help it, he yells for his friend and fires. The drone falls easy, but his silent spot is now compromised. 

It appears that some of the droids are now equipped with some kind of propulsive device, because they fly up and at him faster than he can retreat. He glimpses Allura and Shiro forming up on Hunk, who isn’t moving, but at least is sitting, holding his head. He must’ve gotten a little loopy from the cheap shot. He doesn’t even have time to think about how Pidge isn’t there anymore when the sentries bear down on him.

His shot fires a hole through two at once, but the barrel of his rifle is too long to get it in front of the next. There’s a familiar grunt of exertion in his comm and suddenly a blur of white and green plants two feet into the side of the sentry’s face. The force of impact is so great that the mechanical skull actually mostly disconnects from the rest of the frame and Lance feels like he’s watching in slow motion. 

Pidge’s arms tug on her grappling hook as she pushes off the body and time resumes normal pace. She flips out of his way and Lance shoots another three sentries coming up on them. An electrified green whip slashes through the next wave and they continue until Keith checks in with them. The rest of the team is safe, Hunk is conscious, and the sentries lie in twitching mechanical heaps on the bay floor. 

Pidge still holds her bayard as she steps away from him. She had taken up a defensive position in front of him, just short enough for him to be able to clear a shot over her head as she whipped and zapped and pulled sentries into his line of fire. The teamwork was impeccable.

She looks back up at him and takes a hold of his forearm briefly. “Thanks for watching our backs.” Her hand falls, catching his fingers for a split second. “Hunk will be fine.”

Lance reaches out and takes her hand, squeezing her fingers before letting go. She smiles fondly at him and there are so many things he wants to say, but doesn’t because she isn’t his. At least, not yet.

* * *

“You sent them to rescue my sister on _half_ a plan?!” Matt screams as loud as his body will let him. Shiro tries to calm him down, but Matt rips his arm away with more force than he thought he had.

“Look, what Keith is going to do is the specialty of the Black Lion, its trump card. We just have to trus-”

“No, fuck you, Shiro!” he heaves. “I don’t _trust_ some kid I barely know with my baby sister! That- _phasing through a fucking ship-_ you can’t- PHYSICS!”

He grips his hair hard at the roots, brain running calculations and theories he hasn’t been able to think of for _months_. It is overwhelming to turn on the switch and feel the floodgates burst. The only reasonable explanation as to why Shiro, a decorated pilot, a master of astrophysics, his _friend_ , could even entertain such a ridiculous idea was-

“You’ve… you’ve done it, haven’t you? This phasing shit?” he begs, hoping that this will give him enough confidence that two boys he doesn’t know will get Katie back.

Shiro doesn’t break eye contact, but there is some slight hesitance. “I did… once.”

The hysterical laugh Matt lets out is short and punctuated.   _Once!_ And it wasn’t even Shiro piloting now. Shiro’s face twitches and he presses a finger to a black earpiece. Matt knows something has happened; his injuries be damned.

“Take me with you,” he demands.

* * *

 

“Lance!”

“Keith!?”

The Black Lion materializes before him and guns it past the Red Lion towards the castle.

“Hit ‘em hard.” Keith’s voice is unforgiving, dark. It sends a terror down Lance’s spine. The rail gun is charging at the still retreating ship. 

His voice wavers just a little, “And Katie..?”

“I got her, buddy.”

Red fires and the pulse demolishes the bridge. Lance doesn’t wait to watch the carnage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last part will be coming in a week or two. There's like 3k written, but I'm not quite resolved yet. Hopefully, this tides you over. Thanks for all the responses so far! Please let me know what your fave line in this chapter was. Mine was Matt's: "That- phasing through a fucking ship- you can’t- PHYSICS!"
> 
> Preview line from next chapter: 'There’s a tightness in Lance’s face, a forced expression of calm, that Matt can see when he turns slightly to respond.'


	3. with him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He can’t speak, can’t do anything for her or himself as the boy garbed in blue relieves his friend of her weight. The man’s long limbs hold her securely and Matt burns that he is so weak in this moment where Katie needs him, did this to herself for him. But that look in the man’s eyes is so scared and so tender that Matt doesn’t protest when the man ignores everyone else in favor of the path back to the med-bay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's... a flashback within a flashback in this one. Bear with me.  
> And grab a box of tissues for the angst.

Pidge needs time to recollect, to piece together everything that’s happened, but the comfort of the Black Lion’s cockpit, the safety of it, surges through her with unparalleled force. Keith’s voice is soothing even from up in the pilot’s chair while she’s down here on the floor, even while he issues orders coldly. She would have taken anything other than the witch’s rasp or those phantoms’ twisted words, and the voice of their team leader works well.

“Hit ‘em hard.” Keith is mad.

“And Katie..?” She struggles to open her eyes, glancing up at the blur of a man she can see past Keith on the screen. She wants to speak up, assure Lance that she’s here. Instead, Keith answers, anger dampening, and there is a shaky sigh from the cockpit’s speakers.

Pidge slips out of consciousness into a grateful black.

* * *

Haggar’s fist clenches and lashes out behind her. The holoscreen flashes the many damages to the ship and the other druid nods to her and vanishes. As she leaves the room on the failing vessel, the empty restraints behind her explode in a flash of purple. She reaches the transport vessel, only her druids and two commanders already inside. The door shuts with finality and they jettison, watching the final implosions of the ship.

The witch may have been outmaneuvered this time, but not all was lost.

“Contact Prince Lotor,” she orders. “I have information that may interest him.”

Perhaps she could reign in her wayward son yet.

She waits a moment, contemplating all the pieces before her. “We will rejoin Lord Zarkon. Have the Earth Commander transferred to our emperor’s vessel.” 

Haggar has plenty to be thankful to the Green Paladin for. 

* * *

There’s warmth and a fuzzy feeling of ease beneath the single comforter. He opens his eyes to a darkened room, lit by the scantest of teal Altean crystal light. Lance is a heavy sleeper, once he finally goes out. Pidge’s headphones help cancel out the ambient noises that usually keep him restless. He reaches a lazy hand up and finds only his ear, no green electronics. Somewhat surprised, he scratches his hair above the ear and wipes the hand down his face groggily. 

He turns to get up and ready for the day- well, was it day when it was open space?- when he stops short, something in his way. Tufts of auburn locks sticking up every which way and a curved back clad in a green and white tee: Pidge.

That’s right. Last night- when  _ was _ night in space?- they’d returned from a mission. 

Pidge had been doing some solo reconnaissance on an abandoned Galra base that wasn’t so abandoned. Her meddling with the code and electronics in the command tower had set everything off. Drones, autonomous fighters, turrets, literally everything. He had been the backup, circling the sister moon and waiting for her call.

He waited. And waited. Waited past their agreed upon rendezvous, thinking that she had just gotten swept up in the files and information, as she had before. At half a varga past their arranged time, he began to worry and when Red’s ticker hit a varga, he pushed her towards the base. 

The guns were still blazing and the turrets were shooting at their own drones and fighters, which shot back. It was utter chaos and Lance’s worry exploded. He hailed Pidge only to get no response. Red swept through the drones and disabled the turrets as he continued to scream into his comm. They were too far from the castle to get help for at least another two varga.

It was Red who found them, pulling the location up as a pulsing green dot on the area map, some distance from the fight. It wasn’t moving. “No, no, nonono…”

There was a dark scorch mark on the Green Lion between its ears and the nape of its neck. Its body laid on the ground somewhat unnaturally and Lance couldn’t help but picture a crash landing. Red had all fours in the dirt and he vaulted out of its mouth as soon as the jaw was low enough. As he ran over, there was a screech of metal and some pounding before the hatch on the back of Green gave way and Pidge tumbled out.

“Oh, thank goodness,” he exhaled forcefully. “Pidge!”

His pace picked up as she stood unsteadily, tugging at her helmet. He wrenched his off when no atmosphere alarm blared in his ear; the moon had enough air to breathe. The blue helmet bounced off the ground as he continued to run towards her. She was still struggling with the helmet and he could see that one side had a dent in it.

“Pidge!” 

She stilled then gave an almighty jerk, yanking the green plastimetal off her head. Her hair stuck up in a ridiculous cowlick, swirled from the helmet and sweat. “Pidge-” he huffed.

“Lance?” her eyes turned on him as he plucked the helmet away, dropping it as she started talking about her comm and nav systems. He didn’t care though, cradling her face and making her look him in the eyes. He breathed a shaky sigh of relief at how coherent she was and how her eyes were still clear and focused. The sensation was palpable and the hands that held her face slipped further into her hair as he leaned down.

He yelled at himself internally-  _ there were better ways to kiss her for the first time! _ \- but he was just so damn thankful. Her mouth was compliant and her hands gripped lightly at his arms. Pidge reciprocated only half a step behind his pace, catching up quickly, until he twisted a finger around a lock of tawny brown. She retreated wincing as he muttered apologies. A bruise was beginning on her head where the dent had been. 

“I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t hurt that much, j-just don’t press on it.”

His fingers ghosted the area around it before he started to retreat, mentally planning how they would get back to the castle. “No, I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner. On time.”

She smiled up at him anyway, no trace of resentment there. “I couldn’t reach you and I know you waited because I asked you to last time. You couldn’t have known and, well, there’s nothing we can do about it now,” she said, fingers tucking into his utility belt. She tugged him forward and back into her space. 

“You must be a little loopy from the crash if you’re letting it go just like that,” Lance frowned. His heart rate surely slowing with how her arms wound around his lower back. His fingers found their way back to her hair, pulling out tangles softly, careful to not touch her injury. He really needed to get her back to the castle for medical.

“Maybe so,” she muttered, squeezing him and bringing his attention back to her face. Pidge’s small smile gave way for a teasing grin. “Just don’t be late again.”

Lance swallows, looking down at Pidge’s sleeping form. Her bruises healed with a short stint in the cryo-pod and he had kept her company until she fell asleep, not knowing how close to sleep he was himself. The resurgence of his anxiety smooths away with the way her back and shoulders rise and fall with her breathing. Space had no concept of time that was meaningful. He releases himself to the swirl of timeless moments and sinks back down onto the sleeping pad. Lance lays on his side, tracing a finger over her back and shoulder lightly.

“I won’t be late. I’ll be there,” he promises, voice low as the lights in the room.

Pidge turns in a half-sleep, mumbling and reaching for him. Lance lets her tuck herself around him as she pleases, drifting back to sleep, focusing on the rhythm of her breath and heartbeat and nothing else.

* * *

Matt follows Shiro to the Black Lion’s hanger, a woman’s voice confirming their wormhole jump over the castle-ship’s comm. Shiro told him her name, but he really doesn’t care about it right now. Matt vibrates with nervous energy; his legs are still weak, but dammit, he refuses to be supported by Shiro right now. Shaky hands grip the wall when he needs to and the light empty feeling in his lower limbs propels him to walk faster.

The Black Lion bends as they enter the hangar and the mouth opens. There is a pounding of footsteps and the man who tried to shoot him, who went weak at the knees when he realized where Katie was, barrels into the room. The pilot of the Black Lion steps down carefully and Matt sees Katie finally.

She’s curled into a weak ball in his prisoner garb, hair too short and knotted. She has a pallor that makes her faint freckles stand out, but it almost isn’t as concerning as the blood and dried vomit on her lips and chin. A sort of helplessness wells within him, looking at her. That’s his baby sister. His Katie, Kit-Kat, tiny bird. 

He can’t speak, can’t do anything for her or himself as the boy garbed in blue relieves his friend of her weight. The man’s long limbs hold her securely and Matt burns that he is so weak in this moment where Katie needs him, did this to herself  _ for _ him. But that look in the man’s eyes is so scared and so tender that Matt doesn’t protest when the man ignores everyone else in favor of the path back to the med-bay.

Matt doesn’t even realize he’s collapsed on the floor until the Black Lion’s pilot reaches down to help him up. There’s an odd, restrained smile on the man’s face as he and Shiro guide Matt back towards the medical bay.

* * *

Katie is in his arms, she’s here,  _ she’s here _ , she’s with him. The mantra plays on repeat in his head as Lance takes her from Keith. He’s still scared shitless with the blood and bile on her face and the sheen of sweat covering every patch of skin. He has to focus on how he can feel the puff of her breathing on his neck, labored but present, alive.

His hands hold her as tightly as he dares, not knowing how or where she’s injured. He paces off for the med-bay as quickly as he can without jostling her, face pressing into greasy hair. Lance blinks back tears and pushes forward.

He had promised he wouldn’t be late and he doesn’t know if this counts or not yet.

* * *

Nothingness felt good. 

The icy grip and empty space are a decent enough place to be right now because it means that Pidge can let go. There’s nothing here and no one here and that’s a good thing. It feels like an eon since she last rested, did nothing.

Still, she’s always been curious, always wanted to know  _ why _ . The blanket of stillness has to have a cause and has to have an opening. Anytime she presses past why this was so blissful, a dark niggling in the depths of her mind twinges sharply. A smell of metal and stomach acid and sweat rises. A hand rakes and scratches through delicate parts of her soul. Pidge feels horrible and… bereft. 

Something is wrong. 

Something is missing and Pidge can’t grasp what it is. The temptation to sink back into the abyss is powerful, but curiosity is only matched by her stubbornness. So Pidge pushes. The terrible feeling combines with her other senses that shouldn’t be working in a place with nothing, but she hears gunfire and a scratchy voice and smells blood and ionized air. And she sees flashes of her brother, broken and begging for death by her hand. She sees her father, coldly, clinically assessing her as no longer useful, a disappointment, not willing to join a deeper cause.

Pidge sees too much and feels more. 

She tries to grasp something tangible; she needs something real to anchor herself and get her bearings. The nausea overcoming her is potent so she grabs at it. Riding the wave of illness, she tries to pull herself back to center. It works somehow, and she can count the injures and catalog them. Her mind is at ease to find the heavy bruising on her limbs from restraints, to notice the pain in her mouth from the broken transceiver. Piece by piece she pulls together the jigsaw of her injuries and puts them to reason.

She cannot, however, consolidate or categorize the darkness that grips her spine and seeps into her brain. It’s a phantom feeling and Pidge doesn’t know how to define it and therefore how to fix it. Her heart rate increases and she tries to count the beats as her blood pressure skyrockets with anxiety. Something has to give, something can make this better.

Nothingness was good, felt good, so why didn’t that seem like a viable solution?

* * *

Matt walks in, supported by Shiro and Keith, the Black Paladin. The man in blue stands before the cryo-pod Matt was just in, his back to them. Lance, his brain reminds him. Keith abandons the pair to walk over, quietly murmuring to his friend. There’s a tightness in Lance’s face, a forced expression of calm, that Matt can see when he turns slightly to respond. Keith’s hand falls on Lance’s shoulder heavily, giving it a little shake. His other hand reaches out and touches the glass surrounding Katie lightly. It only lasts a moment, but that moment ends when the straight posture of Lance slumps.

Keith leans further in, gripping his friend’s shoulder harder and saying one more thing. Lance’s shoulders shake with a small chuckle and it seems enough for Keith. He backs away.

“Shiro, I’m going to go fill in Allura, Hunk and Coran,” he says, eyes flicking back towards Lance. Shiro nods and Matt takes a seat on the stretcher from before, finally feeling the weight of pushing himself earlier.

Shiro hovers over him, checking him with the scanner again before Matt pushes his hands away. He sighs and Matt watches as he walks over to Lance, still standing before Katie’s pod. Shiro grips Lance’s shoulders, but the Blue Paladin doesn’t move. Shiro’s hands squeeze and then he’s gone. Matt and Lance are left alone.

From his new vantage point, Matt can see both Katie and Lance’s profile. Katie floats in the crystalline vapor, lit unnaturally in teal. It makes her paler and washes out her freckles, but it seems to be working to clean her up as the trail of blood and the grime of a fight is no longer visible. His old prison garb is tattered and doesn’t fit her and he’s certain that some of those holes were not there before. The blue light is coalesced on several areas of her skin and he hypothesizes that her injuries lay beneath the glowing patches.

His eyes trace over her face, older and a tiny bit unfamiliar with hair cropped unevenly short. There’s a thin scar he can just make out that goes into her hairline as the locks float around her face. Even asleep, there is a tiredness in her face that doesn’t match with the energy and enthusiasm she had before his departure for Kerberos. Matt wonders what else he doesn’t know about his sister, what else he’s missed.

He jolts from his ruminations as Lance’s hand clumsily reaches out and presses flat against the glass. The man’s eyes haven’t left Katie’s face, but they’re a bit swollen and sunken in. Somehow, Matt feels that the deep frown is out of place on Lance’s face. 

The med-bay door swooshes open and a buff man he vaguely recognizes as the one in the yellow armor comes in, jogging. 

“Lance!”

Something about the man’s voice causes Lance’s knees to buckle and the larger man- Hunk, was it?- grabs him before he hits the floor. Lance’s head rests on the cryo-pod. Everything that had been bottled up is released and Hunk shushes Lance while checking the data screens around the pod with one hand. 

Matt watches, unsure if his feelings are detachment or another bout of helplessness. It is getting harder to tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I said this would be three parts, but the natural stopping point for this one was not at the end. I'm hoping only one more part, but who knows at this point. I've laid ground work for far more than what I wanted to cover here.  
> There's more angst to be had and Pidge isn't out of the woods yet.


	4. for him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She loves you, Matt. It’s so incredible, just- everything about her. What she’s done to find you- ...Despite what you or I feel, there’s… there’s no way she would regret what she did for you."  
> Matt doesn’t think he deserves that level of devotion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is pretty Matt-centric. And no, I'm not done yet, but again, the natural ending point wasn't the end. So you'll get more! Eventually! When October and the beginning of November stop destroying my life/free time! Enjoy the fluff and the pain. Let me know your favorite part!  
> (Officially a non-canon Matt!)

“You cannot hide what you know from me.” One.

“Just you wait, kiddo.” Two.

“Katie, Katie- _please_ , I’m _begging_ you-” Three.

“-you’re going to have your own crew-” Two.

“I know who you are and how to break you.” One.

“-it-Kat, I _need_ you to-” Three.

“You _will_ cooperate.” One.

“-just _end it_ already, please-” Three.

“-fly with them to worlds so far away, we can’t even imagine.” Two.

“I-I can’t take it anymore, _please_ , you’re my sister, you should _understand-_ ” Three.

“If you do not do so willingly, it is no matter. I will _make_ you comply.” One

“Don’t you want to be a part of something that makes the _whole universe_ sit up and take notice?” Two?

* * *

Lance sits still, finally out of his armor and wrapped in the softest blanket Hunk could find. His best friend had just left half a varga ago after shepherding Lance through the kitchen, into a shower, and back to the med bay when he refused to sleep. Lance felt like it was all a blur. He knew he was thankful for Hunk and his care and consideration, especially since Hunk was probably just as worried about Pidge as he was.

Shit.

He is a terrible friend. He makes a mental note to thank Hunk (and Keith and the rest of the team) for dealing with his somewhat erratic behavior. He doesn’t think he could have helped it even if he realized what he was doing, but it left a bad taste in his mouth to think of letting things lie. His mother raised him better than that. Lance lets his head hit the cool metal of the center console in the medical room. His legs are curled in so the blanket enfolds them in their relative warmth. The endorphins from panic and worry that kept him on the edge of a knife for the past however many vargas since Pidge’s ‘swap’ were definitely out of his system now.

Lance stares listlessly at Katie’s pod, still glowing blue. The holoscreen he had set to constantly show progress and biometrics scrolls text at a constant rate. Bruises, lacerations, internal bleeding, fractures, erratic spikes in brainwave activity, palpitations, electrical burns, muscle tears… He reads it all, trying his best not to think how that much happened in such a seemingly short amount of time. Lance can’t help his imagination though, and each thought is worse than the next on the spiral down.

So he blinks and opens blurry blue eyes to stare some more, hoping for something good to happen.

A small ding sounds and his eyes sweep over to the other occupied pod. Matt Holt had apparently forced his own early release from his cryo-cycle. The machines spelled out unusually high and active brain activity as Shiro had said. Once Katie was secure in her pod and by the time Lance got back with Hunk, Matt had been placed inside again to complete his healing process.

The glass slides up and Lance moves without a thought, catching Matt up in the blanket by the shoulders. The older man groans a little and presses a hand to his forehead.

“Yeah, coming out of these things can feel terrible, even if you’re all healed,” Lance says, voice quiet to keep Matt’s probable headache from getting worse. Matt straightens and looks at him, brown eyes slowly focusing. Lance is taller by a couple inches and he idly wonders if everyone in Pidge’s family is short. “I’m Lance, by the way. Nice to finally meet you, Matt.”

* * *

“I’m still jealous that you get to go.”

Matt chuckles, turning around to see Katie in the doorway, wearing an old NASA tee and pajama pants with UFOs patterned on them. Her hands are clasped behind her back and she shifts a little impatiently on bare feet. He feels a swell of emotion of some sort at her reluctance to cross the threshold; his little sister normally barges into his room unannounced at any time of the day.

“Get over here, you tiny nerd.”

She pouts but happily complies, at his elbow in a flash. He returns to packing up some of his stuff: a laptop from the Garrison that his work and notes are on and his uniform for the next day. With the exception of the ceremony before their pre-flight decontamination, he doesn’t have to worry about anything else. Clothes, food, equipment, all of it is already packed up in the rocket that will jettison them towards Kerberos.

He’s allowed to take one personal item, but he hasn’t been able to decide.

Katie hums, restless, as he stares at the empty space in the bag. Matt shrugs mentally and closes it up anyway. He puts the bag by the door, a habit since elementary school, ready for the new day. When he returns, Katie’s flopped herself on his twin bed and he drops next to her so they’re shoulder to shoulder, staring at the ceiling still peppered with glow-in-the-dark stars like hers.

“For the love of science, Katie, say something. I’m starting to think you’re a clone,” he whines, poking her in the ribs. She jolts and curls in on herself under his assault with a squeak. He relents and looks at her back. She doesn’t move. “Kit-Kat..?”

She lets out a shaky sigh at the nickname and suddenly Matt knows she’s upset. He coos and scoops her up. Her face feels hot and sticky with tears against his arm; she was always a messy crier. Katie mumbles into the crook of his elbow, hiccupping.

“Care to say that so humans can understand it?” he teases gently.

She takes a deep breath and holds it for a couple seconds before she speaks. “I’m gonna miss you…”

Well, if that doesn’t play the saddest, gooiest chord on his heart, he doesn’t know what will. He shuffles them around, sitting up against the wall his bed is pressed against, Katie with her legs curled over his lap. She leans heavily on his shoulder until he wipes thumbs across her cheeks and forehead to rid the skin of tears and sweaty bangs. He lets out a fond chuckle, recognizing the Holt Family Stress Sweat. Her face is still red as she screws up her brow to keep from crying more.

“I’m going to miss you, too, Katie,” he soothes. He looks at her big amber eyes, refilling with tears and his big brother heart tears. They’ve always been close, despite an eight year age difference. It was almost inevitable with an army lead scientist and a contract engineer for parents. He walked her to school every day, made sure her lunches were packed, kissed bandaids, and was there when she got her first robotic car to run. Their mom still pretended to be upset that Katie’s first word was ‘mah’ and it referred to him and not her. He could feel his own eyes misting over. “I’m gonna miss you so, so much.”

Katie makes a noise in the back of her throat and throws herself around him. The Kerberos mission is three years long. Almost a year of travel there and another back. A little over a year of research. He’d miss the rest of Katie’s schooling, back during her last semester at the Garrison with the pace she was setting. He didn’t have a doubt that she would graduate with top marks earlier than even he did. So much to miss and all that time for some (admittedly important) geological studies.

Just him, in space, vast and empty, with only his father and his friend at his side, through the millions of things that could go wrong with space travel. He knows it and so does Katie.

So Matt tucks himself further around his baby sister, his favorite person on Earth. She mutters to him that he’s her favorite brother. He whispers back that he’s her _only_ brother and she pinches him. That just means he _has_ to come back then, she says, or else _she’ll_ come get _him_.

In the morning, Matt slips out of Katie’s sleep-loosened death grip to get ready for his last day on Earth (for now, he reminds himself). When he gets back from his daily ablutions, Katie is gone and the empty space in his bag has a photo of himself and Katie at his graduation from the Garrison.

* * *

“It hurts so bad-” Three.

“What do you know of Voltron?” One.

“-understand the knowledge that is just before us-” T-two.

“- _K-katie-!_ ” Three!

“Your brother is a lot like you.” Four…?

“-ed Paladin… The place to strike-” One-!

“-but, you know, blue’s still my color, huh?” Five?

“I’m _sorry_ , just let me d-” THREE.

“He’s a traitor. We’ll find him.” Fo- ...Sh- Shiro?

“-tell Mom I-” Three, no- Matt?

“I can’t do this anymore.” Lance?

“I’m horribly disappointed in your decision, Katherine.” _No._

* * *

Sitting next to his sister’s boyfriend is not something he had ever anticipated being able to do. All his pre-Kerberos, pre-Galra thoughts about any boy Katie might bring home had fled him during incarceration. He had wanted to intimidate her beaus, protect her from cads. His baby sister had always loved _him_ most, after all, and it was weird to think that he’d somehow missed the transition.

Even without seeing how she interacted with Lance, he could tell that they were for real. He’d seen Lance’s reaction to Katie missing and injured. He’d watched Hunk drag the boy away, almost forcibly, to take care of himself.  And Lance returned and still was there, sitting with him in silence, as they waited for Katie.

Their shoulders are pressed loosely together and the soft blanket lays over their tucked up knees. Lance’s exhaustion is setting in as Matt catches him jerking up from microsleep every few minutes. Time doesn’t have any meaning to Matt anymore, except for the vast amount he’d apparently _lost_. He had given up hope for so long ago. Some rebels had tried to rescue him, but they hadn't made it far. He’d watched them get gunned down and, inexplicably, he had been left alive, purposefully, and dragged back into a cell darker and colder than before. He’d only had his heartbeat, still beating heavy, to count the hours by. He lost count back then and never recovered time. Matt doesn’t know how long it’s been since he was rescued by Team Voltron, how long he was in the cryo-pod, how long it has been since Katie was put in her own. Suddenly, time feels important in ways it hasn’t for, what? Years..?

It makes him anxious and he tries to focus on something else. The movement on Katie’s data screen catches his eye, but he knows that’s a bad place to look. He’d gotten caught up once already and the injuries and regenerative rates made his guts twist. He hates that she’s hurt, hates that he can’t help, and hates…

Either himself or the Galra. He isn’t sure.

A weight presses into him and soft hair brushes his cheek. Lance finally succumbs to the call of sleep, his head flopped awkwardly on his own shoulder towards Matt.

_She loves you, Matt. It’s so incredible, just- everything about her. What she’s done to find you-_

Matt unwillingly hears Lance’s confession ringing through his head again. The conversation about how Katie had come to be a Paladin of Voltron was lengthy, but Lance was clearly holding back, keeping Katie’s secrets to share for herself. A silent affirmation that Lance believes in her and her recovery as a surety.

_Despite what you or I feel, there’s… there’s no way she would regret what she did for you._

Matt doesn’t think he deserves that level of devotion.

But, he thinks as he shifts to let the exhausted man rest his head more peacefully on his shoulder, maybe Lance does.

* * *

It’s so cold she feels like her skin could peel right off. The icy grip crystallizes in her muscles and she couldn’t move if she wanted to. Her list of maladies was so long, but each catalogued item disappeared once the next few were recognized. The pattern continued until she had nothing left to name, only the reasons behind the absence of pain.

Except the tight pull, the vice on her skull, digging into her brain, is still there, but unlike every other pain, there’s no reason she can find.

The voices she hears and the smells and phantom touches seem to emanate from it. That doesn’t make them feel any less real. They’re definitely her memories. They’re definitely there. She feels a bit shattered, unable to piece it back together, no matter how she pushes and prods.

If only she could focus.

There’s a new sound, a soft bell and a hiss. Her skin prickles, not unpleasantly, and she pushes the pieces of the voices and memories back to try and ascertain the cause of this new phenomenon. Her vacuous environment is filling with heat and noise and gravity. She falls and falls, in darkness, listening and savoring the tingle that spreads over her body, the sensation of _feeling_.

She had missed it.

Something arrests her fall and she thinks it might be a person, but she can’t remember quite how that feels. Regardless, the heat she can absorb grows and she greedily burrows into its source. The ambient noise starts to filter into voices and she flinches. She doesn’t want to hear more.

But they’re calm and don’t speak about pain so she relaxes.

Pidge’s eyes stay shut and she releases herself to the depths of sleep.


	5. you know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'The most important processor is your brain,' Matt had said.  
> Sure, she knew that, but she wasn’t sure he was correct in saying it couldn’t be hacked. Neural oscillation had been studied thoroughly in medical sciences and any pathway of electrical coding could be manipulated if you had the key. If you stimulated the brain the correct way, you could elicit motor responses so there was no reason to think that the brain couldn’t be provoked to reveal secrets of the host.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took this long, but class got the better of me last semester and there were various family things to take care of over my holiday. So I've wrapped this chapter up while I've been sick. Hopefully it doesn't come off too weird; Lance and Pidge are not the major players in this chapter and there are a lot of POV switches and flashbacks. Hope you can keep up and enjoy it! (I really don't know how many chapters there will be now that an actual plot has emerged...)  
> I apologize in advance for the way the chapter ends. <3

“Emperor Zarkon, we were scouting System X9Y as ordered, when we found these primitive scientists.”

Matt’s spine is rigid and his feet tense on the floor waiting for some pause, a moment when he’ll know what to do, whether to run. He knows its a futile, adrenaline-fueled thought; he’s never really been the athletic type and his arms are secured almost painfully behind his back. There’s a crack in his suit’s mask anyway so he wouldn’t be able to leave… wherever they were.

“My Lord, I don’t believe they know anything useful.”

All fight goes out of him; it is an almost polite death sentence. 

A dark voice calls from the communication console. “Take them back to the main fleet for interrogation.” Matt sucks in air headily, spots dancing in front of his eyes.  _ This is worse _ , his mind panics. “The Druids will find out what they know.” White noise wracks his brain and screws with his perception of the little he can see of his surroundings in the shielded, cracked helmet. Someone is yelling and then there’s a terrible thud and he’s wrenched to his feet.

“Let’s go, Terran.”

* * *

Understanding molecular vibrations and how to recognize the patterns in quantum harmonic oscillations worked at a glance was difficult. Incredibly difficult.

But Katie pushes through the book on Hamiltonian and energy eigenstates anyway. If she wants to be able to communicate with Matt and with their father while they were up doing incredible things in space and she was stuck on terra firma, she had to. The cipher book had already been downloaded once she got back inside after last night’s trip to the roof with Matt. 

_ The most important processor is your brain, _ he had said.

Sure, she knew that, but she wasn’t sure he was correct in saying it couldn’t be hacked. Neural oscillation had been studied thoroughly in medical sciences and any pathway of electrical coding could be manipulated if you had the key. If you stimulated the brain the correct way, you could elicit motor responses so there was no reason to think that the brain couldn’t be provoked to reveal secrets of the host. 

Now she was getting off track. 

Katie flips the page to see the end of the chapter on the Ladder method as someone knocks on her door. Her mother pokes her head in and tells her it is time for bed. Colleen Holt eyes the book as Katie sticks a bookmark in and tries to shuffle it into her school texts. She hops into bed, already in pajamas and teeth brushed. Colleen looks like she’ll leave for a moment, before she pushes into the room.

Sitting on her bed, her mom tugs the hair tie out of her ponytail and frees a few tangles. Her fingers, calloused from handling hardware and tools at work, twist Katie’s locks around gently before retreating. Colleen’s eyes sweep over her daughter’s face, searching for something.

“Mom?”

“Hmm, sorry, sweetheart,” she murmurs. “I was just feeling sentimental.”

Katie stares at her, a bit concerned, when Colleen presses a long good night kiss to the crown of her head. Her face is squeezed lightly by her mother’s hands and before she knows it, the door is shut, the light off. Katie slips back and down under the covers. She has a fitful dream that night, but doesn’t remember it when her alarm clock goes off.

And, like that dream, the book on quantum frequencies is gone in the morning.

* * *

If there was anything Haggar succeeded in more than the Arts of the Druids, it was laying traps. Lotor had been acting out lately, purposefully drawing attention to himself. However, he was her son and therefore, his actions had cause that would move him closer to his goal. She was not foolish enough to believe his motive was to regain his father’s favor and the considerable benefits it would provide. No, Lotor was fine in his exile, admired by his troops and shrewd in his dealings.

So she lays a fine web for him to fall into, tantalizing him with information on the Lions and their Paladins. Even if his goal was not to rejoin the Galran Royal Throne, he was playing the part. Haggar would use his ploy to her own ends. If he wanted to play the groveling prince, begging to be in good graces and looking to prove himself against Zarkon’s greatest enemy, then she would put the pawn out for sacrifice.

Maybe it would take a knight or two down with him.

* * *

When the cryo-pod dings, Hunk is glad he and Allura are the only ones present  _ and  _ awake. Pidge’s eyes flutter and she falls bonelessly from the pod into his arms. Her breathing is steady and deep and she nuzzles into his arms as Allura quietly reads off the medical panel. All physical injuries cleared.

The issue, he thinks while adjusting his small friend in his grip, will be once she is awake. 

The cryo-pod can only take care of bodily injuries. There is no telling what has become of Pidge’s mind after her ordeal. Still, he’s glad that Lance and Matt are still sound asleep. He places Pidge carefully on the stretcher and Allura appears at his side with a soft and thick blanket.

Her face is still and pale. Her freckles are far more noticeable without her fake glasses on and Hunk’s chest hurts to see her look so fragile. Allura hovers over them, anxious and unsure. He flashes her a weak grin and murmurs that she should tell Coran, Shiro and Keith. She moves immediately, looking glad to have something to do, something useful she can provide. She reaches the door before he calls out just loud enough for her to hear.

“Probably best to not have everyone come bursting in. I’ll wait until Lance and Matt wake up.”

She nods and takes off at a slower pace. He doesn’t know how either will react and if they’ll be able to properly watch over Pidge while she sleeps off the rest of her fatigue. It wasn’t that Hunk didn’t trust them. It was that they had higher emotional stakes when it came to Pidge. He’d been the one to tell Shiro that Matt needed to return to the cryo-pod and had practically shoved him in when the wiry stick of a man tried to protest returning. He’d also been the one that had to remove Lance from the medical bay, divesting him of his armor and pushing him into the bathroom to clean up. He’d argued with Lance for five minutes before realizing that his best friend would not rest if he couldn’t be within reach of Pidge.

Hunk sighs at the memory and glances at Lance, curled on the floor, leaning on Matt’s shoulder and dead asleep. His friend has dark circles under his eyes even unconscious. A movement brings his attention back to his patient on the cot.

Pidge twitches, muscles and tendons spasming once like she’d been startled, but she was asleep. Hunk gently takes her hand, recalling a bit of his old MED crew training from the Garrison as he feels her racing pulse start to slow and the moisture on her palms. She had a night start, or hypnic jerk, if you wanted to be technical. 

He hopes that she felt safe and secure, though, without the peculiar sensory feeling that accompanied night starts, a feeling of 'falling into the void'.

* * *

Lance looks over, trying to seem casual. He’s probably failing, but internally, he’s a wreck. Who could blame him? He’s out on his first date with Pidge since his crazed kiss for her on the Galra outpost moon. They’ve technically been together for quite a while now, a few months if his time calcs were right. Yet, the constant stream of missions, training and morale boosting shows of arms didn’t give them much time to themselves.

For the most part, they’d continued doing what they normally did: banter, play video games, accompany Hunk in the kitchen and otherwise just hang out. Just, now they also sat closer on the couch, cuddled instead of finishing a level, included more flirting than playful insults. So today’s ‘excursion’ was brand new.

Pidge had commandeered the holoroom and updated the protocol to her own standards. Where they sat now resembled Earth and it tugged on every one of Lance’s heartstrings. The blankets she had set on the floor absorbed the coldness of the metal floor which was still a bit too hard to pass for grass. Still, with Pidge’s fingers tangled in his, he can’t complain.

The sky across the simulated lake in their hilly meadow slips into reds and pinks as the programmed sun sinks beneath the horizon.

Lance feels a tug on his lips and a slightly giddy feeling in his stomach and chest, leaning over the whisper in her ear, “I thought you didn’t find sunsets beautiful?”

She snorts and looks up at him fondly. “Just because I love technology doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a sunset, Lance.” She leans into him as the last dredges of golden light leave their view and his butterflies settle. He hums and tucks her into his side. The familiar constellations of their homeworld start to poke through the darkening sky. They lay back and even given the chance to stargaze his favorite mythical figures, he tucks his face into her hair.

“Lance,” she whispers, tugging on his ear lightly.”You’ll miss it. Look up.”

He listens, hearing a whistle pitched at a distance from them, and above him, the sky shatters into blues and greens. He stares for several moments before he looks down at her.

Fireworks.

Lance can only stare as the colors paint Pidge’s face with light. She’s biting her lip, somewhere between smiling and looking nervous.

“Pidge…”

He presses his forehead to hers and she inhales deeply, eyes closed. She opens them, speaking just loud enough over the muted pops of the fireworks, before pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“You can call me Katie… if you want.”

* * *

He’s dragged from the room, bleeding through his newly issued rags of black and purple that probably still have stains from their previous owner. His perception is hazy and he’s thinking in quantum harmonic oscillations and ciphers for some reason. Those Druids had probably pulled whatever they thought interesting-  _ useful-  _ from his skull. 

Movement catches his not swollen shut eye and he sees his father, dressed in the same dark colors, walking with no prodding from their captors. Samuel Holt is looking from floor to console to wall in absolute wonder. Matt groans, trying to catch his attention, trying to warn him, but quantum frequencies don’t translate to sound waves for him right now, so he’s stuck slurring muted syllables over a tongue that won’t work and vocal chords burning from his screams.

If only he could focus.

* * *

The groaning is a sure sign that Lance is awake. Hunk smiles a bit to himself, patting Pidge’s hand and turning to the source of the noise. Lance is wiping his face groggily and his movements have disturbed his nap buddy. He waits patiently as Lance takes stock of his surroundings, the overhead lights on instead of dimmed and the emptiness of Pidge’s cryo-pod. He know the exact moment it sinks in because his best friend’s back goes rigid and his eyes widen.

Softly, he calls out, “Lance.” Lance’s eyes skitter around the room until they land on him. He looks so shattered, emotionally and physically. Hunk gets up from his stool and walks slowly towards him, like a he might bolt. “She’s right here, Lance, c’mon, man.”

Lance takes his hand and grips it hard as he confirms it in Hunk’s open gaze. He sees Pidge, sleeping on the cot, over Hunk’s shoulder. His bony chin digs into the Yellow Paladin’s shoulder as he pulls him in for a firm hug. Hunk can tell this is what Lance needs the most right now. He rubs his back until Lance’s breathing returns to normal.

“Thank you, Hunk. Thank you so, so much,” he mutters. Hunk is about to wave it away when Lance’s hand squeezes his between them. “For everything.”

Hunk smiles again, tightening his hold on his friend. “I’ll always be here for you and Pidge.”

He helps Lance to sit at his stool before he goes over to where Matt has fallen back asleep at an odd angle. Lance has her hand in his, but tears his eyes away to stare back at Hunk, light returning to his countenance. “I know. We will be, too, for you.”

Hunk grins, finally satisfied, and settles at the base of the console to be Matt’s new pillow.

* * *

No, no, no- he’s going to be dragged around the corner, he won’t be able to see his dad anymore. What if they get separated for good? How could they ever escape? How could he leave his own-

Samuel Holt stops and turns, locking eyes with his son. Matt feels tears bubbling behind his eyes, heat of frustration and utter loss rises in his face. His father’s expression is devoid of anything he might recognize, no reaction. He turns to his guard and speaks, but Matt can’t hear it anymore. Then Samuel smiles and the guard hands him his confiscated glasses. Dr. Samuel Holt smiles wider and needs no prodding to enter the interrogation room, perfectly at ease.

Despite his lack of sensory perception at the moment, Matt hears one thing in his head: his father’s voice.

_ Being the first people to meet aliens? My life’s work would be complete. _

It’s as though one of the large ice samples he’d pulled from Kerberos shot straight down into his stomach, chilling Matt to the bone.

* * *

She awakens with a gasp.

She coughs and curls in on her side, but a hand is wrapped around her hand, firm on her wrist. 

“Pidge? Pidge, oh, Katie, thank goodness!”

“Katie!”

“Coran, let everyone know Pidge is up. I’ll take her vitals and check her out.”

She just keeps coughing, the hand anchoring her as she tries to expel whatever’s on the inside of her lungs from being in the cryo-pod. When the fit subsides, she dares turn over to open her eyes in the bright light of the medical bay. Hunk is there with the medical scanner and a relieved expression.

The hand is attached to a pair of blue eyes and familiar brown hover nearby without blinking.

Her throat hurts from coughing, but she tests it anyway, “... hi.”

* * *

This web is far finer and more delicate. Despite initial perceptions, the Terran Commander was formidable and cunning. While he lacked in the raw strength and power that Galra possessed, he made up for it with shrewdness and intelligence beyond the majority of Zarkon’s commanders in sciences and military tactic.

Haggar could not afford to make a misstep.

She could do without him, of course, but it was far better to have a Terran working for them, now that they knew the Paladins were Terrans all. This one held no loyalty to his home world, only to progress and the possibilities that she and Galran technology had laid before him. He had not even flinched when he had been presented with the chip containing the technical blueprints and ideas ripped from his own son’s mind.

So Haggar does not expect any different when she presents him with the choice of two chips.

“One is from the ex-prisoner of Beta Traz and engineer Slav and the other is from the Green Paladin of Voltron.”

Commander Holt easily reaches for the alien engineer’s chip. Before his fingers touch the metal, she speaks again.

“The Green Paladin is responsible for Voltron’s cloaking and newfound communication capabilities that my Druids have not been able to break through yet.”

“If you are ordering me to take the Paladin’s records, then I shall, but cloaking? Surely, derivative of another technology the Altean’s previously possessed,” he says. A rather wicked grin stretches up half his face. “And, of course, Madam Haggar, you know that I am an expert at cracking codes and deciphering communications’ protocols.”

She hums in impatience. This Terran was getting far too arrogant. He takes the Paladin’s chip and plugs it into his console. The holographic screen skims to communications methodology and the man laughs. 

“Quantum frequencies… not even anharmonic. How quaint.” He unhooks the chip and trades it for Slav’s. “My son used those when he was just a child.”

Haggar watches him return to the console, pouring over the trans-reality ship blueprints from the depths of Slav’s mind. This may take more time.

 


End file.
